A Thousand Paper Cranes
by arainymonday
Summary: "He who folds one thousand papers cranes pleases the gods and shall have his heart's greatest desire." -Japanese proverb. Kurt and Blaine fold paper cranes together. A series of vignettes written for Klaine Week 2012.
1. Paper Wishes

****Disclaimer: ****I'm just playing in the Glee sandbox. If you recognize it from elsewhere, I don't own it.

**Author's Note:** Hello! If we haven't met before, I'm Heather. I have just a few words before the story begins.

This week is Klaine week. If you're not familiar, you can find out about it here (remove spaces): klaineweek2012. tumblr. com. If all goes according to plan, I'll be posting all week based on the prompt of the day. I've had the idea to write a story about the legend of the paper cranes for a long time, and this week seemed like the perfect fit. I hope you enjoy the themed vignettes this week. Please review, if you are so moved, and find me on Tumblr: arainymonday.

Prompt for Day #1: Kiddie!Klaine.

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><p><em>"He who folds one thousand papers cranes pleases the gods and shall have his heart's greatest desire."<em>

_—Japanese proverb_

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><p><strong><strong>A THOUSAND PAPER CRANES<strong>**

**PAPER WISHES**

Elizabeth Hummel waded carefully through the sea of five-year-olds causing chaos around the classroom. One misstep could mean pinching a tiny finger with her heel or knocking a head with her knee, and aside from not wanting to harm her students, one crying preschooler often resulted in ten screaming, shrieking drama queens.

From the front of the room, the teacher called out to her class. "It's time for our art lesson. Let's put away our toys and get our supplies from our cubbies, okay? You have two minutes. Ready … set … _go!_"

The students rushed to win the "game" the teacher liked to play with them every afternoon. Sixteen boys and girls hastily stowed their toys in the baskets lining the wall and raced across the room to find the packet of art supplies Elizabeth had slipped into their cubbies before school started. As necessary, she scooted her students along or broke up squabbles. The students made it to one of the six rectangular tables after two-and-a-half minutes. Elizabeth pretended they'd done it on time so she didn't have to take away any of the gold stars on their merit chart.

Some of the more inquisitive students had already begun poking through their art packet even though they knew they weren't supposed to.

"Mrs. Hummel! Mrs. Hummel, you made a boo-boo. There is only just paper in here."

"I _love_ paper!" Blaine cried happily.

Elizabeth bit down hard on the inside of her cheek. Blaine loved everything. Sometimes, he walked around the room patting inanimate objects and saying 'I love you!' while the others played with dolls or trucks (or, more often than not, protected the dolls from the trucks). She tried not to pick favorites, but she'd been charmed by Blaine the first time she saw his unruly curls and bowties. The first time he'd scraped his knee on the playground, Elizabeth had patched him up herself and kissed it better so she didn't have to see his big, expressive eyes swimming with tears. She knew then the boy had her wrapped around his little finger.

"I do too, Blaine," she said, segueing into the lesson. "I especially like this kind of paper. It's a very special kind called origami paper. Does anyone know what origami is?"

She received the expected honest, funny guesses a preschool class could dream up: a fruit, a unicorn, underwear, a country, a superhero, a treehouse, a dog, their bus driver, a book, the color of Mrs. Cohen-Chang's fingernails, a cartoon. After thirty seconds of letting them scream out whatever answers their imaginations supplied, the teacher raised her palms, and they quieted down. Blaine had his hand in the air.

"Yes, Blaine? Did you have a guess?"

He nodded. In the sweet, soft voice he used when he wasn't spontaneously proclaiming his love for something, he answered. "A paper animal."

Elizabeth's eyebrows rose slightly and a pleased smile passed over her lips. She knew Blaine was a bright child, but it never ceased to amaze her when he displayed his intelligence in such an unassuming way.

"That's very good, Blaine. Origami is folded paper, usually in the shape of an animal. Today, I'm going to show you how to make a paper crane. There is an old Japanese story that says if you fold one thousand paper cranes, you get to make a wish."

The class exploded into cries of disbelief.

"A thousand? That would take my whole life!"

"It would be easier to find a genie lamp!"

"And you'd get more wishes!"

Elizabeth indulged their need to scream about everything for a few moments. Her eyes flicked over to Blaine. He sat with his hands folded over his lap and big, hazel eyes gazing hungrily at her, like even at five-years-old he had a burning desire only mystical wishes could grant him. She looked away with some difficulty to bring the class to order.

"Everyone find a sheet of plain white paper in your packet. We're going to practice together."

Elizabeth showed them the folds using the document camera on her desk. Their chubby, clumsy fingers struggled to follow her precise folds, but they were easily satisfied. Artie produced something vaguely resembling a triangle and skipped up to her desk to show it off proudly.

"Keep practicing using the instructions on the board. I'm going to come around and help you fold the fancy sheet of paper in your packet."

Elizabeth forced herself to start on the opposite side of the room from Blaine. She'd never move on if she bent down next to her favorite student. She'd never seen anything like the hungry look in his eyes from a five-year-old before. It scared her. More worrisome, it triggered her maternal instincts and made her want to cuddle him and plant kisses all over his face like she did with Kurt when he had a nightmare.

"Let's see how you're doing, Tina," Elizabeth said.

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><p>Blaine did <em>not<em> love this stupid piece of paper very much. It wouldn't fold right no matter how many times his brain and his fingers told it what to do. He did okay folding the straight lines and smoothing out the paper again, but then he had to bunch the paper up, and he couldn't get it to go like the drawing on Mrs. Hummel's instruction sheet.

The more times he tried and failed to make the paper crane, the more determined he got. His eyebrows drew together with a crease between, and his tongue poked out from between his teeth. He tried so hard his forehead got a little sweaty and matted down his curls. He had to do this. He had to get that wish!

He tried and tried until the paper weakened with too many folds and tore jaggedly apart when Blaine flattened it down with his palms. He stared in shocked disbelief at the paper. His lower lip poked out and wobbled. He dropped his chin to his chest as the world went blurry behind the tears building up in his eyes.

"Why are you sad?"

Blaine turned his head towards the soft voice at his ear. A blurred picture of a boy with light brown hair and Mrs. Hummel's bright blue-green eyes sat next to him. He came into class sometimes. Blaine thought he was Mrs. Hummel's little boy. He had on a pink and white bowtie that Blaine loved. Normally, he would have shouted at the boy how much he loved his bowtie and hugged him and been best friends with him, but …

"My heart got crushed," he answered, his voice shaking.

The little boy next to him gasped and chewed on his bottom lip as his eyes filled with tears. He asked in a tiny, sorrowful voice, "Who crushed your heart?"

Blaine pointed at the paper. "My wish got torn up."

The boy frowned at the torn paper, like it had called him a mean name. He wiped at his eyes with the heels of his palms and patted Blaine's hands resting in his lap. Tears smeared over the skin between them. Blaine's fingers twitched closed, trapping the boy's hand in his.

"I'm Blaine, the boy without a wish."

"I'm Kurt, the boy who is going to fix your wish."

Blaine looked up quickly. A bright, happy feeling bubbled up in his chest. No one had ever done anything magical for him before. The words tumbled out of his mouth, even though his daddy and mommy had scolded him for saying it to people.

"I love you!"

Kurt giggled. "I love you too."

Blaine's eyes flew open wide, and his jaw went slack. "Wow," he breathed. "You really are magic, Kurt. You fixed my wish!"

"No, I didn't. I haven't taped your paper yet."

"You did fix it! My wish was that somebody would love me as much as I love them."

Blaine jumped up from his chair and threw himself at Kurt. The other little boy giggled and hugged him back just as tightly as Blaine squeezed him. His eyes slipped closed, and his head fell against Kurt's shoulder.

"You're the best, Kurt."

"The best what?"

"Everything!"

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><p>Kurt knew now why his mommy had sent him over to Blaine after his daddy had dropped him off from half-day kindergarten. He was the perfect friend for Kurt. He was nice and wore a really pretty green bowtie that matched his eyes. He needed Kurt's help too, and Kurt liked helping people. No one at kindergarten liked it when Kurt helped them. They called him mean names, like when stupid Rachel Berry had screamed at him today that he was a know-it-all. Then he'd gotten time out for calling her a show-off, even though everyone agreed with him.<p>

"Oh!" Kurt preened. "You're the … sweetest everything!"

Blaine's cheeks flooded with heat. He looked away shyly and mumbled, "Thank you."

Some stupid boys started a fight in the corner of the room, and Kurt's mommy rushed over to stop them punching each other. When Kurt looked back at his new friend, Blaine blinked his big, pretty eyes slowly. He looked a little scared, like he thought Kurt wanted to play with those dumb boys.

"Do you still want to make a paper crane? My mommy had me practice last night because she thought it might be too hard for kids, but I made a nice one."

Blaine shrugged. "I don't know. I already got my wish. I don't know if I have to make a thousand anymore. I should probably share the wishes that are left in the world."

"But if you didn't fold a whole thousand you wouldn't be using up a wish. You could just have a really pretty paper bird in your room. We can make it with this paper."

Kurt found the teal paper with gold and green flowers on it in the art pack he'd helped his mommy put together last night. He hoped Blaine would say yes because he wanted to make another paper crane. It had been so much fun last night.

Blaine ran his forefinger along the rough surface of the heavy paper. He chewed on his lower lip while he considered, and then he nodded. Kurt clapped happily and rocked back in his chair. He sat up straight, very seriously, like when his daddy argued with a customer over how much it cost to put new tires on a car.

"Okay. Put your hands on top of mine, but not too tight."

This was how his mommy had taught him last night. He'd rested his hands on top of hers while she folded the paper, and then he'd tried to make a few paper cranes of his own. He went very slowly with Blaine's fancy paper. His tongue peeked out from between his lips when he lined up the folds and smoothed them down. Sometimes, Blaine's fingers pressed down on top of his to help him push down the paper.

When they finished folding the paper crane, Kurt balanced it in his palm for Blaine to inspect. He just looked for a few minutes. Kurt worried his new friend would hate it and call him a know-it-all and make him go away forever. He pressed his mouth together and breathed deeply.

"It's perfect," Blaine whispered.

Kurt reverently set the paper crane down on the table before he hugged Blaine tightly.

* * *

><p>Elizabeth stopped short when she saw Kurt hugging Blaine. A warm smile bursting with maternal and teacher pride broke over her lips. A paper crane on the table caught her eye. They'd made a mess of it. There were gaps in the paper where white peeked through, the wings were uneven lengths, and the tail was three times as long as the head. It hardly looked better than Artie's vague triangle.<p>

But they thought it was perfect, and she agreed.


	2. Secret Wishes

**Author's Note:** Thank you to everyone who is reading this story when there are so many Klaine Week fics to pick from on top of all the updating WIPs and new stories. I have an extra special thank you for everyone who has reviewed. You've brightened up my day with your kind words.

Prompt for Day #2: Klaine AU.

I've written nerd!Blaine, Cheerio!Kurt. I've enjoyed the gifs, but I've never actually read one of these stories before. I hope I've done it well. (P.S. Give me some recs in your reviews if you think there's a nerd!Blaine, Cheerio!Kurt I simply must read)

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><p>"<em>He who folds one thousand papers cranes pleases the gods and shall have his heart's greatest desire."<em>

—_Japanese proverb_

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><p><strong>A THOUSAND PAPER CRANES<strong>

"**SECRET WISHES"**

Blaine poked his head into the school librarian's office with a bright smile for the elderly woman despite the early hour. The cup of cinnamon-flavored coffee in his hand had a lot to do with his chipper mood at seven o'clock in the morning.

"Good Morning, Mrs. Prince."

"Oh, Blaine. It's you."

The typically cool greeting did nothing to dampen Blaine's spirits. She always warmed up as the morning wore on, and before the first bell rang signaling the time had come to go to class, she would emerge from her office and say something sweet about his bowtie collection. With a wave, Blaine made his way across the library to the bin of books he needed to check in, sort, and shelve before school. If he had extra time, he wanted to run through his flashcards again. The Brainiacs were going on the Smarty Pants show again soon, and they had a title to defend. Mike, Tina, and Artie were counting on him to answer the physical science questions.

"It's totally _normal_ for _horsts_ to be hoisted up high and for _grabens_ to be down low like graves," he murmured.

Blaine still whispered about fault lines when he threw himself into the chair behind the circulation desk, but the words ("Basin and range ….") died on his lips when he spotted the paper crane sitting on the computer terminal. Grinning at the pretty pale green bird with swirling gold designs, Blaine picked it up and twisted it around at eye level. Whoever left it – probably Mrs. Prince's great-granddaughters – had tied a ribbon to the paper. Delicate, precise writing in black marker had soaked into the white satin.

_I would fold a thousand paper cranes for you._

Blaine's breath caught in his chest. He knew the Japanese legend of the paper cranes because he'd just finished reading a biography of Sadako Sasaki. His breath rushed back out of his lungs, and he slumped down into the chair. This paper crane had not been left by a little girl visiting her great-grandmother. It had been left for him.

Someone paid enough attention to him to know what he was reading. Considering how often he had his nose stuck in a book and how many he read in a given week, to know which one he had finished yesterday meant someone had been paying close attention to him. Someone in this school liked him – Brainiac, Mathlete, male lead of glee club, world's most frequent Slushie target – enough to make a romantic gesture.

He needed to talk to Rachel.

But he had work to do in the library and flashcards to learn for the Smarty Pants show ….

No, he needed to talk to Rachel. Now.

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><p>"Oh my God," Rachel said. Her eyes darted from the paper crane up to Blaine's hopefully cautious face. "Oh my God! <em>Oh my God!<em> You have a secret admirer!"

With her conclusion matching his, Blaine finally let his happiness explode. He laughed brightly and caught Rachel in his arms when she launched at him. He spun her around, her toes clean off the ground. When he set her down again, she gripped his arms tightly, like she was the one about to swoon.

"This is so exciting, Blaine! You're about to have your first boyfriend. I just … I just can't." She turned away dramatically and squeezed her eyes shut. Blaine laughed giddily. "You _do_ want to find out who this secret admirer is, right?"

"Umm. Yeah."

As the clock hands ticked towards eight, the hallway began filling up more. Blaine hardly noticed, he was so focused on the paper crane still clutched delicately between his fingers, but Rachel's eyes locked onto a crowd of cheerleaders in their bright red and crisp white uniforms.

"Well …," she began, still eyeing the Cheerios steadily. "The only other out gay guy at McKinley is Kurt Hummel."

Blaine burst out laughing, and she sent him a sharp glare. He waved his hands at her, trying to apologize while he caught his breath and dabbed at his eyes.

"I'm sorry. I really am, Rachel. But … Kurt Hummel? He hasn't spoken a word to me since he quit glee club and defected to the Cheerios. Even then, he never liked me, but now he's the HBIC, and I've got a list of extracurriculars and interests that place me firmly in the 'nerd' category."

"But –"

"I went to Comic Con last summer, Rachel, dressed as Prince Zuko. Sam dressed up as Aang, and we signed up for a bending demonstration. Kurt probably went to New York fashion week or something glamorous and sophisticated."

Rachel pursed her lips. "I don't honestly understand half of what you said, except for the part about fashion week, but …. Blaine, there are only two other options. One, some desperate and lonely girl is trying to turn you straight. Or two, your secret admirer is closeted. Do you really want to go through letting down a pining fangirl or being in a secret relationship?"

Blaine looked down at his shoes. "I don't know. A pining fangirl did become my best friend." Rachel rolled her eyes, but looked suitably flattered. "And … I could wait for the right guy to come out."

The bell rang, calling them to class. Rachel shut her locker quickly and slipped her arm in the crook of Blaine's elbow. They joined the crowd of students pushing towards their classrooms.

"Listen, Blaine, I'm not trying to throw a wet blanket on your moment of ecstatic and long overdue romantic happiness. But if this guy isn't out, I think you should forget about him. I know you, Blaine, and how you internalize. Being in a secret relationship, it would kill you even though you'd never show it. I know my wishing doesn't make it so, but … I just really, really hope it's Kurt."

Blaine left Rachel to go into his first hour class. He didn't pay too much attention, not that it mattered with Mr. Schuester continuing to butcher the language. Blaine spun the paper crane around between his fingers and considered Rachel's hope that his secret admirer was Kurt Hummel.

They'd met when glee club first started up, and if Blaine was honest, he'd always had a crush on Kurt. He spent whole rehearsals sighing wistfully, watching Kurt watching Finn, and not understanding how a bumbling jock could catch his eye when there was a besotted gay male in the same room fawning over Kurt. Rachel said Kurt had been harboring a crush long before he'd met Blaine, but he doubted that. It was more likely Kurt wanted someone better than Blaine.

After Kurt had left glee club for the Cheerios and began his meteoric rise in popularity, they'd had one class together with assigned seats at the same table. Kurt and Finn were stepbrothers by that point, but even so Kurt stared straight ahead and never spoke a word to Blaine all year, except once when his pencil had broken halfway through a test. Their fingers had grazed as Blaine handed over his spare, but then Kurt had turned bright red – indignation at being touched by someone so low on the social hierarchy, no doubt – and they hadn't exchanged so much as a look since.

No, his secret admirer was definitely not Kurt Hummel.

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><p>Blaine hoped he'd find another paper crane when he came to work in the library before school the next morning, but the desk was empty. It was still empty the next day, the one after, and every day for the next week.<p>

"Let's face it, Rachel. Whoever he is, he's obviously decided I'm not worth his time after all," Blaine declared.

The paper crane with the ribbon message swung from its place on the inside of the door when he opened his locker. He caught it just before it hit Becky in the back of the head, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He delicately hung it up in its place and caressed the paper with a fingertip. Whether he got a boyfriend out of it or not, it was likely the only romantic gesture he'd see until he got out of Ohio.

"Or maybe he thinks you're not interested because he's waiting for you to make a gesture in return. You said he noticed you reading a book, right? Well, who saw you read it?"

"Umm … everyone." Blaine gestured to the books under his arm. "I always have a leisure reading book with me. I literally had that book in every classroom, the library, the cafeteria, the courtyard, the Lima Bean, and I could seriously keep going."

"Did anything significant happen while you were reading it? Maybe a flirty smile as you glanced over the top of the book." Her breathy voice put a twitching grin on his lips. "Or maybe you saw someone reading the same book? Or –"

"Nothing more significant than me sobbing my eyes out in the Lima Bean, which I'd really like to live down sometime soon. Let's just drop it, Rachel. I have a pretty paper crane, but no boyfriend or the hope of getting one anytime soon."

He felt her frowning at his back as he walked away and tried not to let his disappointment show.

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><p>Over the next month, Blaine slowly forgot to hope for another paper crane. The one he'd received still hung in his locker, but no longer did he think his (former) secret admirer cared about him. He went back to work as usual: check books in, sort them, shelve them, do homework until the morning bell.<p>

Blaine's lips moved silently as he stared down at the flashcard. None of the pneumonic devices for the geologic time scale made much sense, so memorizing them had been a challenge, but he thought he could finally list the periods in order. Just in time too, because the Brainiacs filmed their quiz show on Saturday afternoon.

"Silurian, Devonian, Permian."

His eyes focused over the top of the card caught a flash of red polyester and traveled up the lean, fit figure of the Cheerio standing in front of the desk. For the first time in almost twelve months, Kurt Hummel was looking at him. Expectantly. Because Blaine was sitting at the circulation desk, and he probably wanted to check out books.

"You forgot Carboniferous. It comes before Permian."

Blaine blinked. A Cheerio had just corrected a Brainiac? Kurt was talking to Blaine? He braced for the inevitable fire, flood, and famine that came with the end of the world. Even his thoughts were dorks.

"Thanks. Umm, do you want to check out a book?"

"Yes. If only I could find it." Kurt scratched at the back of his neck and gave an embarrassed little laugh. "I have the title and call number, but …."

"I can help you look."

Kurt led the way over to the biographies. "You'd think after a lifetime of Saturday library excursions I'd be able to find a book on a shelf, but ….," he rambled breathlessly. He held out the paper, which Blaine accepted. "It's called _The Astaires_."

"About Fred and Adele, yeah. It's actually at the desk. I, umm, saw it this morning …"

Blaine shrugged, as if to say he couldn't help but read a book about Fred Astaire pre-Ginger Rodgers, and looked down to hide his blush. His voice trailed away, however, when his eyes landed on the title and call number written on the paper in delicate, precise letters just like the ones on the satin ribbon attached to the paper crane in his locker.

His head snapped up, eyes wide and jaw slack. A second later, panic broke over Kurt's face as he realized the error in showing his handwriting to Blaine. His eyes darted everywhere but Blaine's face, but mainly towards the exit blocked by the stacks. Blotches of red colored his usually flawless complexion.

"It's you," Blaine breathed. "But … but you've always hated me."

Finally, Kurt's eyes snapped to his. "No."

It wasn't a suitable answer by any means, but Kurt didn't seem to be capable of saying more just then, and Blaine let the word wash over him. No, Kurt didn't hate him. No, not everything he thought about Kurt was true. The Cheerio swallowed thickly and seemed to find the courage to explain.

"I saw you at the Lima Bean crying over that book and trying to hide it. I wanted to know what could make composed, unflappable Blaine Anderson cry. I read about the legend, and I thought maybe I could get your attention again so you'd look at me like you used to."

Blaine's cheeks flushed hotly. "You noticed."

"Yeah. But I was scared of it, so I chased a boy I knew I couldn't have. When I was _almost_ at a good place again, I had to put on this uniform to protect myself. Nothing was the same after that."

Blaine remembered that time too well. It had been bad for him too, but nothing like what Kurt went through. Boxing lessons meant he'd clocked Karofsky good once and that was the end of it. A beefy jock didn't like to admit his black eye and cuts came from the gay kid he'd been bullying. But by then, Kurt had already been driven to the Cheerios uniform.

"Why didn't you just tell me? About the crane, I mean. Or send another with a clue?"

Kurt averted his eyes quickly and took a shuddering breath. "You laughed. When Rachel guessed it was me, you laughed. Derisively. When I saw you still had the crane in your locker, I assumed you hoped it was someone else. I've never hated you, Blaine, but it's pretty clear that you –"

"No," Blaine said quickly.

The past two-and-a-half years rewrote themselves in Blaine's memory. He reached out for Kurt's hand, as warm and soft as he'd always imagined.

"Kurt, I would fold a thousand paper cranes for you."

Hope sparkled in Kurt's eyes. Blaine slid his fingers between Kurt's and cupped his jaw with his free hand. He stretched to his full height, let his eyes fall closed, and pressed their lips together. Kurt breathed in sharply. His fingers flexed between Blaine's and squeezed again. When he felt lightheaded from lack of air and the intoxication of Kurt's mouth against his, Blaine lowered himself onto his heels again. Kurt rested their foreheads together.

"What happens now?" Blaine wondered.

"I guess we're like Danny and Sandy at the end of _Grease_."

"Except I'd look terrible in a cat suit," Blaine laughed.

"And I'm not a jerk who'd want you to change yourself for me. I'm captain of the Cheerios. I can date a Brainiac/Mathlete/LARPing glee club lead singer if I want to," Kurt declared.

"Hmm. Well, your Brainiac/Mathlete/LARPing glee club lead singer boyfriend is going to be on television Saturday, and he could really use a cheerleader."

"Especially since he's not getting any more studying done this week."

"No?"

"No."

"Is that a promise?"

"Absolutely."

"Oh, thank God."

Geologic time scale and tectonics be damned, they had two-and-a-half years of missed kisses to make up for.


	3. Perfect Wishes

**Author's Note:** Thank you everyone for your continued support! Klaine week is amazing, isn't it? There's so much love going around! I cannot wait for tomorrow!

Prompt for Day #3: Missing Moments.

I've sort of followed the prompt by writing about Kurt and Blaine singing "Perfect" in the car, but I also took this opportunity to explain why I feel two other scenes never happened (and it's not because the writers are neglectful or the episode ran long and they needed to shove in another Finchel scene or studio politics). My opinion may not be popular. A lot of people were certainly clamoring for at least one of these scenes, but I'm personally very glad it never happened.

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><p>"<em>He who folds one thousand papers cranes pleases the gods and shall have his heart's greatest desire."<em>

—_Japanese proverb_

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><p><strong>A THOUSAND PAPER CRANES<strong>

**PERFECT WISHES**

Kurt leaned against the passenger side of Blaine's green station wagon and twirled the folded square between his fingers with a dopey grin on his lips. Blaine had left the love letter folded into a bird shape in his locker, but Kurt didn't know how to refold it, so he settled for a square so he could read and re-read it all day.

"Hey, you."

Kurt looked up quickly to find his boyfriend, bright-eyed and breathless, which he knew meant Blaine felt nervous. If it wasn't the end of the school day with students pouring out the doors to get to their buses or cars, Kurt would have pulled him into a long, steamy kiss. Instead, he settled for a special smile only ever directed at Blaine and a slow, shy blink.

"Are you ready to go?"

Kurt nodded, still directing that secret smile at his boyfriend, the one that promised gasp-inducing, toe-curling, we-have-to-stop-and-cool-down-now kisses. Blaine's breath hitched as he fumbled for the key fob to unlock the car.

They'd driven to school together today in anticipation of their planned date in Columbus. That morning, Blaine had flashed the theatre tickets at Kurt before he could ask just to prove he had remembered them. He claimed he wasn't going to ask, but Blaine didn't believe him. They hadn't kissed since seven-thirty this morning, and now it was almost four and Kurt had a handwritten love letter, and he swore he might die if he couldn't feel Blaine's lips on his soon.

Blaine turned the ignition, shifted into drive, and joined the queue of student cars waiting to leave the parking lot. Kurt's toes tapped inside his boots, bouncing just enough to jiggle his knee and draw Blaine's attention. He looked about two seconds away from asking if Kurt needed to use the restroom before their drive to Columbus, and that would utterly spoil the romantic mood, so he dove in with his confession.

"You made my day brighter."

A dreamy, faraway look stole over Blaine's face and transformed him into the punchdrunk boyfriend Kurt adored and still couldn't quite believe was his. He dropped his eyes and peered at Blaine through his lashes while his fingers gently pried Blaine's hand off the steering wheel, traced shapes on the inside of his palm, and kissed the warm skin lightly.

"I love you so much."

Blaine drove one-handed through Lima towards US-33 so Kurt could hold his right hand. A string of bad luck meant they hit every green light and had no opportunity to lean across the console and kiss at stoplights. Kurt fidgeted in his seat. He debated whether he'd cause an accident if he forced Blaine's eyes off the road just for a few seconds.

"How was your day, honey?"

Blaine hummed contentedly at the pet name. He chattered for a few minutes about a big paper he had in English, but how he thought he could recycle one he'd written last year at Dalton. They had a five minute debate on academic ethics, in which Blaine worried too much like he always did and Kurt tried not to push him too much to just turn in the same paper.

He'd figured out early on that he had to be careful which of Blaine's problems he inserted himself into. Unlike most of the people in Kurt's life, Blaine actually listened to him and valued his opinions. More often than not, he accepted Kurt's advice. He loved that about Blaine, and he didn't want to ruin it with thoughtlessness or flippancy.

"I just don't know what to do about Finn. He's not like this at all when we're at your house. It's like he's two completely different people."

Kurt pressed his lips together and swallowed the reservoir of words built up since Blaine's New Directions audition. Wading into this one would only make it ten times worse. This was between Finn and Blaine. Kurt could mediate a resolution, but only if he wanted to tread on Blaine's independence and pride. He stood back and stayed silent, no matter how much it hurt, and waited for his boyfriend and brother to work it out. He could only hope – knowing they both had quiet dispositions until suddenly they didn't – that it wouldn't become physical.

He kept up tracing patterns on Blaine's palm while he vented his frustrations. He knew why Finn's rejection bothered Blaine so much, but that too was an issue Kurt couldn't fix. His boyfriend didn't need to be fixed anyway. It was everyone around him that needed to be adjusted, because boys who claimed they weren't very good at romance, but left handwritten love letters in lockers were perfect.

* * *

><p>Blaine needed to stop ranting about Finn now. He knew it wasn't fair to put Kurt in the middle like this in the first place, but he didn't have anyone else to talk to. Rachel would defend Finn to her last breath, Artie didn't do rambling emotional conversations, Santana would probably get her razor blades, and he didn't have any other close friends at McKinley. Kurt was the only person who listened to him and valued his words.<p>

In the distance, a train whistle sounded, briefly drowning out the radio playing lowly. As expected, the guard rails were down and lights flashing at one of the many railroad crossings in Lima. Blaine eased on the brake and shifted into park while the freight train inched down the tracks.

"You said I made your day brighter. What made it dark in the first place?"

"Rachel. She has the most asinine campaign platform I've ever heard."

Every instinct told Blaine to give Brittany and Rachel (especially Rachel) a piece of his mind for entering the presidential election. Couldn't they see how amazing Kurt would be? As a symbol, yes, but as a leader too. While everyone else larked about like it was a game – or in Rachel's case, like it wasn't flagrant betrayal of her best friend – Kurt had a message and a plan to make McKinley a better school.

It was so damned unfair how everyone underestimated the strongest, bravest, smartest boy in school. Sometimes, when he went ten rounds with the punching bag, Blaine couldn't think of anything else it made him so angry how Kurt was treated. But he had to leave those thoughts in the gym. He couldn't fix this for Kurt, and attempting to would only injure his pride more. He could only support Kurt while he handled the injustice with as much poise as he always did.

God, Kurt was so perfect. If only everyone else in the world could see it too.

Kurt started, as if he'd just realized something important, and broke off his rant about Rachel. He twisted sideways in the passenger seat with a smile replacing his frown from a moment ago. Blaine almost asked about the epiphany, but then he got it too. They were away from their homophobic school, parked at a railroad stop, and with at least five minutes to kill before this snail masquerading as a freight train passed.

Finchel drama be damned. This was a perfect Klaine moment.

They met over the center console for a familiar yet always thrilling kiss. Kurt's fingertips brushed along the column of Blaine's neck, and Blaine's hands cupped Kurt's jaw. It didn't matter that Blaine held Kurt's face, he never got to control their kisses. It wasn't that Kurt didn't allow it. It was that Kurt's mouth made his brain go fuzzy and he didn't remember to try.

"I love you so much."

Breath ghosted over lips as they breathed heavily and met for another sweet-steamy kiss. The radio came back from commercial with a soundtrack that caused their kiss to break for wide smiles to pass over their lips. They tried to kiss again, but they couldn't wipe away the beatific grins, so Kurt sat back in his seat with a twinkle in his eye.

They joined the song on the chorus. Kurt took the high melody, his voice so clear and resonating a million sopranos would weep at their inferiority. Blaine took a lower octave, creating a beautiful harmony of two different voices coming together, each strong in its own way, not overshadowing the other, but complementing and supporting.

"_Pretty, pretty please. If you ever, ever feel that you're nothing. You are perfect to me._"

The train finished its harrowing crawl down the tracks, and the guard rails rose as the flashing lights died away. Kurt fished his iPod out of his bag, hooked it up to the dash, and queued up _Perfect_ so they could sing it to each other from the beginning.


	4. Well Wishes

**Author's Note:** Happy Klaineiversary! Can you believe our boys have been together for a year? Words cannot express the depth of my emotions. Well, yes, they can because I'm a writer. ;) In fact, here are some of my emotions in the form of another vignette.

Prompt for Day #4: Klaine's Anniversary

* * *

><p>"<em>He who folds one thousand papers cranes pleases the gods and shall have his heart's greatest desire."<em>

—_Japanese proverb_

* * *

><p><strong>A THOUSAND PAPER CRANES<strong>

**WELL WISHES**

Kurt sat on the end of his bed, arms and legs crossed, glaring angrily at his father who held out a pair of blue silk monogrammed pajamas. He lifted his chin and turned his head away, but the action sent a rivulet of snot trickling down his throat and he gagged, which turned into a hacking cough, which made him sound like a braying donkey. A box of Kleenex appeared in front of his watering eyes.

"As often as you have ordered me around, all in the name of my good health, I take great pleasure in saying: take off those designer clothes, put on your pajamas, and get back into bed or you're grounded."

Kurt cast plaintive eyes at his dad over the edges of the Kleenex in his vision, but he hadn't mastered the kicked puppy look like Blaine had. Burt lifted an eyebrow.

"Dad, it's our anniversary."

"I know, kiddo. But you've got a fever and Niagara Falls coming out of your nose. If Blaine were here …"

Burt held up a finger and dug out his cell phone. Kurt flopped backwards onto the bed while his dad speed dialed Blaine. Lying spread out on top of his comforter, arms flailed out to the sides, Kurt had to admit the world spun a little less than when he sat up.

"Hey, Burt," he heard Blaine's voice say through the phone.

"Hey, kid. Listen …"

Kurt wondered, on a scale of one to ten, how strange it was that his dad had his boyfriend on speed dial and that neither of them sounded awkward having a phone conversation.

Fifteen minutes later, Kurt curled up under the fluffy comforter and texted Blaine all his miserable apologies. His dad and boyfriend had ganged up on him, of course, but he did feel better back in bed wearing an old pair of Dalton sweats stolen from Blaine's room. He wasn't sure if Blaine answered his texts because the decongestant kicked in and dragged him into a deep sleep.

* * *

><p>Kurt had the strangest dream about Pavarotti teaching him the alphabet. He seemed rather fixated on the letter Q for some reason. His irritation sent him tossing and turning under the heavy covers. He felt far too hot, like he had a furnace in bed with him. When Kurt finally pried his eyes open, Pavarotti kept nattering on about the letter Q.<p>

"Was ng uh?" he mumbled.

"Or fuln buh?"

Kurt started and stared over the top of the blankets at Blaine. His boyfriend sat against the headboard, tucked under the covers with Kurt, and consumed an enormous bowl of cereal. At least half a box of Peanut Butter Cap'n Crunch had to be in the bowl along with a full quart of milk. Blaine swallowed thickly.

"Wow. You give a mean judgmental look even when you're sick."

"What you doing here? And why are you pillaging Finn's cereal?"

Kurt sank back down into the pillows. He felt disgusting with a layer of phlegm in his mouth and his skin clammy from the heat radiating off the comforter and Blaine.

"I'm here because it's our anniversary. I'm plundering the cereal cabinet because that's what I do when I'm sick. I eat ungodly amounts of cereal and watch _Sesame Street_. It's made me feel better since I was a kid."

Kurt peeked over the top of the comforter. Sure enough, Big Bird expounded on the letter Q. He flopped back down, too weak to exert himself any more than absolutely necessary.

"I'm sure decongestants and antibiotics had nothing to do with it."

"Nope. Just the magical healing power of puppets and learning."

A grin passed over Kurt's lips as his eyes slipped shut. He felt far away from the world still, but waking into it. Blaine pressed a hand to his damp forehead, and Kurt made a startled sound of protest. His boyfriend only hummed happily.

"I think your fever broke. Are you hungry? I brought you soup. Also, balloons, but I don't think you want to eat those."

"You brought me balloons?"

"Uh huh. They're downstairs. Do you want me to make you soup?"

Kurt nodded against the pillow, and Blaine bounced out of bed. Kurt almost let himself drift off to sleep again, but he really did feel sickeningly hot under the covers. With some effort, he kicked them off, but the cool air dried the sweat under his clothes and made him feel even worse. He needed a shower and to brush his teeth.

It wasn't until he stood under the showerhead that his brain clicked into gear and started thinking properly again. Blaine had skipped school to spend their anniversary together and to take care of his sick boyfriend. He sighed wistfully as he washed the conditioner out of his hair.

Blaine was still downstairs when Kurt got out of the shower, turned off the television, and made his bed. A can of chicken noodle soup should not take that long, so Kurt padded downstairs with a box of Kleenex, cough drops, and DayQuil tucked under his arm and a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He had dressed in a fresh pair of silk pajamas and felt like a human again. He dropped the supplies off on the couch, but stopped before going to check on Blaine in the kitchen.

A vase of flowers sat on the table in the foyer with the strings of three helium balloons tied around its waist. His heart did a little flopping feeling in his chest. Kurt had had big plans for their first anniversary. He wanted epic romance. But seeing get well flowers and balloons and having his boyfriend make him soup changed his definition of epic romance.

"I think I just fell in love with you all over again."

Blaine turned away from the range where he stirred the soup with a curious expression. Kurt opened his arms with the blanket still bunched in his fists and wrapped them both up in the comforting fleece embrace. He turned his head away so he didn't get Blaine sick.

"I don't …"

"The flowers and balloons and soup."

"Oh." Blaine chuckled lightly. "The balloons were supposed to have little hearts on them, but I had the florist switch them out after your dad called. I was going to put them in your locker. I might not be able to kiss you at school or hold your hand in the hallway, but I can still let you know that I love you and that you've made me happier this past year than I've ever been before."

Kurt pulled back and gazed lovingly at his boyfriend. He ran his hands over Blaine's cheeks and along his bottom lip. "Oh, Blaine. You turned one of the worst years of my life into the best." He started to lean, but a tickle in his throat reminded him he was sick and shouldn't kiss Blaine.

"You can, you know. I don't mind. I think kissing when we have colds is intimate."

Kurt grinned. "I know you do, but this is more than a cold. My throat is sore, and I had a fever. I kind of like sharing sniffles with you too, but I don't want to get you that sick."

Blaine flashed big heart eyes at him, and Kurt settled for pressing a lingering kiss to his cheek and then rubbing it off with the blanket.

"I'll finish the soup. You go change into a pair of my pajamas so we can snuggle on the couch."

"I'll roll up the pants so I don't walk on the ends."

Kurt sighed and blinked slowly at his boyfriend's retreating form. He loved how tuned in to each other they were and how comfortable they were around each other. It hadn't occurred to him before, but he must look a mess from blowing his nose and hacking up more lungs than humans were supposed to have.

He poured the soup into two bowls. After the heaping portion of carbs and dairy he'd just consumed, Blaine could use a few vegetables and protein. He settled down into the couch and fiddled around with the remote until he found the right station. Blaine plopped onto the couch a few minutes later in a pair of pajamas monogrammed with KH. Kurt stared, trying to sort out why that made him so emotional.

"I took you more for the sort to watch musicals when you're sick."

"Oh, I am, but I like the sound of your tradition too."

The local PBS station played the final moments of _Sesame Street_ on the television. Kurt made a disgruntled noise and tried to pull Blaine over to him with only his foot. Cuddling while balancing soup bowls (and pausing to dab at his nose with a Kleenex) proved awkward, but strangely fun.

"I'm done."

Blaine put the soup bowls on the coffee table and opened his arms for Kurt, who gratefully snuggled into his chest. His hands caressed Kurt's back through the fleece blanket, and every few minutes he would press a kiss into Kurt's hair, like he'd forgotten he'd done it moments ago.

"I'm sorry we can't go out for our anniversary," Kurt mumbled into his chest.

"I'm not. I mean, I'm sorry that you're sick, but if it made you fall in love with me again, I can't regret that. The only thing I wanted for our anniversary was to feel close to you, and I do."

Kurt hummed contently into his boyfriend's chest. He had almost succumbed to the second dose of decongestant when a coughing fit made him turn away. Blaine rubbed his back until his shoulders stopped shaking and held out a cough drop. He popped it into his mouth, and the sharp, cool scent of mentholyptus rushed through his clogged nose.

"So I should return your anniversary present?"

Blaine laughed. "I think you should sleep some more."

After some coaxing, Kurt shifted around on the couch to use Blaine's lap as a pillow. He stayed awake through a rerun of _Mr. Roger's Neighborhood_ just to tease Blaine about picking better style icons. As the afternoon wore on, children's programming turned into educational documentaries. Kurt wanted to stay awake for the surprisingly interesting one about origami, but it was a battle against his eyelids and the soothing pressure of Blaine's fingers running through his hair.

* * *

><p>The light had changed when Kurt blinked awake, and the coffee table around the soup bowls overflowed with glossy magazine pages folded into strange shapes. The television played the middle of a program Kurt didn't recognize stamped with the PBS logo in the lower corner. He shifted around onto his back, working his muscles to stretch out the kinks. Blaine paused folding up another magazine page – and oh my god that was <em>Vogue<em>! Blaine had ripped up _Vogue_! – and grinned down at Kurt.

"Welcome back."

"Why are you mutilating our favorite magazine?" Kurt slurred.

"To get a wish." Kurt blinked. "Did you miss that part of the program? Well, apparently, if I fold a thousand of these papers cranes, I get my heart's desire. Do you know what that is?"

Kurt struggled through the grogginess clouding his mind. Blaine didn't make him answer before he had a long drink of water and another cough drop. Even then, he only shook his head.

"I'll give you a hint. It's almost 3:45."

"Oh. Does that mean you have to leave?"

"No, dummy," Blaine teased. "It means that a year ago, almost to the minute, I came into the junior commons a great big ball of nerves with a planned speech that I totally botched and somehow found the courage to kiss the strongest, kindest, most amazing boy I've ever known. And for reasons I still cannot fathom, he kissed me back."

Kurt sat up on the couch, his body twisted around a little awkwardly to face Blaine. "What's your wish?"

"That you'll kiss me back again."

Kurt wanted to say no, because inevitably Blaine would get sick too, but the sweet words and puppy dog eyes swayed him. He slid his arms around Blaine's neck and pressed their lips together. He kept his mouth closed, even after Blaine licked at his bottom lip, but the heady scent of mentholyptus floated between them nonetheless.

A year ago yesterday, Kurt had imagined a totally different future for himself. He didn't think he would have a boyfriend for years to come, much less one who skipped school to take care of him and bought him get well balloons and wanted to kiss him even when he was sick and folded paper cranes for him. His idea of an epic romance had been based on romcoms, and he had never imagined feeling so loved and accepted he forgot to care about his appearance. A year ago yesterday, the world had been bleak and life a thing to survive. But now ….

"Sing to me. _Blackbird._ Please?"

"But that's your song."

"Not mine. Ours."

"Back me up?"

"Always."


	5. Surprise Wishes

**Author's Note:** You've left me so many lovely reviews that I've read and re-read to keep me smiling through the difficult parts of this week when I can't write Klaine. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart. Here is my "Keep Calm" note to the fandom. Or maybe it's my plea to the Glee writers.

Prompt for Day #5: Graduation/College

* * *

><p>"<em>He who folds one thousand papers cranes pleases the gods and shall have his heart's greatest desire."<em>

—_Japanese proverb_

* * *

><p><strong>A THOUSAND PAPER CRANES<strong>

**SURPRISE WISHES**

Kurt sat on the couch with his laptop balanced on his thighs trying to find the inspiration to keep typing a paper about the marginalization of countertenors and contraltos in musical theatre, but he'd lost the thread four paragraphs back and all he could think about now was how he could be on a train home to see his family and his boyfriend, but instead he would be spending Thanksgiving with Rachel in their tiny studio apartment and choking down a vegan meal.

He understood why they were staying in New York. The cost of living in the city was astronomical and what they saved on plane or train fare would fill up their refrigerator for several weeks. They would be home in just under three weeks for winter break as well. But still, it had been three-and-a-half months since he'd hugged Blaine, kissed him, held him, whispered into his ear how much he was loved.

Rachel staggered through the door with two armloads full of groceries and kicked the door closed behind her. Kurt spun the deadbolt and relieved her of her burden. Anything to take his mind off the paper that refused to be written. He'd told Rachel that if she wanted a vegan Thanksgiving, she needed to buy the groceries. Typically, she'd left it until Wednesday evening. No, Wednesday night, because it was already past ten o'clock. No wonder she'd been gone for three hours.

"Harrowing trip to the supermarket?"

She huffed and pushed her sweaty bangs off her forehead. Considering the cold snap settling over New York, that was answer enough. They sorted through the paper bags together. Kurt put the frozen and cold food into the refrigerator while Rachel stocked the cabinets.

"You'll never guess what I found," she gushed. "You're just going to love this."

He glanced over his shoulder to see Rachel holding up a wishbone and beaming at him. The arch-shaped turkey bone looked authentic. He narrowed his eyes incredulously.

"Where does one find a wishbone in a vegan supermarket?"

"I found it … someplace else. So, what do you say?"

"You make it sound like there's a black market for wishbones."

She waved the bone at him. With an apathetic shrug, he tossed the bag of corn into the freezer. A wishbone wouldn't whisk him away back home so he could cuddle up with his boyfriend. Rachel clucked her tongue.

"Come on, Kurt. I'm holding the desiccated remains of a living creatures to make your Thanksgiving a little brighter. Indulge me, okay?"

"Fine."

Kurt took the other half of the wishbone, and on Rachel's count, pulled. Predictably, she got the end with the knob on top. He tossed the thin sliver of wishbone onto the table.

"Wow. That was a great plan, Rachel. I feel loads better," he deadpanned.

"Well …," she began, and accompanied her gloating with a little dance for good measure, "maybe there's somewhere else you can get a second chance at a wish."

She pointed eagerly at the door and flapped her hands until he sighed deeply, extremely put upon, and let her drag him across the tiny living room. He really was not in the mood for Rachel's special brand of crazy right now.

"Oh, that's right. I forgot. We store all of our wishes in the hallway," he said acerbically.

Rachel's enthusiasm could not be dimmed. She clapped her hands together and bounced on the balls of her feet when he reached for the doorknob. If she had paid for a singing turkey-gram or a pilgrim clown or something, he was going to murder her in her sleep tonight. The door swung open, and he sucked in a surprised breath.

Blaine stood on the doormat with the hugest smile Kurt had ever seen. He balanced a powder blue paper crane on his palm. For a moment, Kurt couldn't breathe or think. He could only drink in the emotion of being so close to the man he loved. Then, he pounced. Blaine caught him around the waist even as he staggered backwards and into the opposite wall. He laughed lowly beside Kurt's ear, and it brought forward memories of a hundred laughs and kisses and affections whispered there before.

"What are you doing here?"

His mouth asked the obvious question, but his hands caressing Blaine's face and his eyes roving over everything familiar denied to him for months said how happy he was to have his boyfriend in his arms again.

"Bringing you a wish." Kurt accepted the paper crane with a playful eye roll. "I couldn't let a five day weekend go to waste, so I schemed with Rachel."

Kurt glanced over his shoulder at his best friend. She looked as happy as Kurt and Blaine to see them together again. So that was why she'd been gone three hours: to pick up Blaine. He felt terrible about sulking all day. He'd buy her a wrap she'd eyed at Bloomingdale's on their last window shopping trip to make up for it.

"Besides, how could I miss the spectacle that will be Kurt Hummel's first Black Friday in New York City? I have a feeling my arms going to ache from all the bags I'll be carrying."

Kurt released a sound dangerously close to a squeal of delight, but only girls made those noises, so he would deny it happened later. "I am going to put those amazing arms of yours to good use."

"And that's my queue to leave the apartment for a couple hours," Rachel giggled.

Kurt flushed bright red, but he couldn't deny how close he'd been to asking her for that favor. She headed down the stairs with a wave and bright smile. He had no idea where she was going at ten o'clock on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, but he was sure she'd already made plans while scheming with Blaine.

"Do you want to see the apartment?"

His voice sounded shy. He felt nervous. It was ridiculous feeling so uncertain when he knew how much he loved Blaine and how much Blaine loved him. He'd fantasized about a reunion full of passionate kisses and scattering buttons, but theirs wasn't a Harlequin romance. He took Blaine's hand and pulled him inside the modest space he'd decorated into something sophisticated and homey. A blush painted his cheeks as he looked at Blaine through his lashes.

"We can start with my bedroom?"

Blaine breathed his answer. "Yes."

* * *

><p>"I can't believe you and Rachel pulled this off without me figuring it out. It just proves how depressed not seeing you over my vacation made me."<p>

Blaine hummed a wordless answer and snuggled up closer to Kurt's side. His boyfriend ran his fingers through the curls still damp from their shower while Blaine tugged their bodies closer and closer under the warm blankets until there was no space left between them and he shifted on top of Kurt. He could hear his steady, strong heartbeat beside his ear.

"We have four whole days together. You have to show me everything. Friday is for shopping, of course, but Saturday and Sunday I want to see the NYADA campus and Time Square and a Broadway show and Central Park and …. I don't know. Everything!"

Kurt chuckled. "A complete tour of New York City in two days? I think you should hold on to the wish you brought me."

"Just a complete tour of everything that's important to you. It'll all be important to me too when I'm here next year."

Kurt went quiet for a few minutes. "That so far away."

Blaine shifted around so that he could peer up at Kurt without untangling their limbs too much. He didn't want an inch of space between himself and the man he loved for the next four days. There would be hours and miles come Monday morning.

"Not really. The worst is over, Kurt. We'll never be apart this long again. You'll be home for a month of winter break starting in three weeks. You have Spring Break in March, and I have mine in April. Then your semester is done in early May. We have all summer and the rest of our lives together then."

"That sounds … not so bad, really. Not compared to being apart for three-and-a-half months."

A bright grin spread over Blaine's mouth. "We can do this, Kurt. No matter what anyone says. Distance can only separate us geographically."

They settled back into content silence, sharing kisses as the city noise lulled Kurt towards sleep and kept Blaine awake. He unsubtly poked Kurt in the side.

"Hey! Come on. You've been on a train all day. How are you not sleepy?"

"Because I slept on the train?" he answered in a teasing voice. "I wanted to have all night to be with you and talk to you."

"Rachel's home now, so you're going to have _to be with me_ quietly."

Blaine buried his face in Kurt's chest to muffle his excitable giggles. He didn't know what had stolen over him. Some extreme giddiness that he only associated with eleven-year-old girls at Justin Beiber concerts, maybe. But he and Kurt had each other, and they were more in love than ever. He thought he had a right to laugh at the naysayers and the universe that had stacked all the odds against them.

_We win._


	6. Eternal Wishes

**Author's Note:**I apologize for the lateness of the chapter. The day got away from me, but I did have time to write some Klaine! This chapter marks the first appearance of the actual legend observed: a full one thousand paper cranes. Finally!

Prompt for Day #6: Proposal/Wedding

* * *

><p>"<em>He who folds one thousand papers cranes pleases the gods and shall have his heart's greatest desire."<em>

—_Japanese proverb_

* * *

><p><strong>A THOUSAND PAPER CRANES<strong>

"**ETERNAL WISHES"**

With a fierce glare and some well-chosen snippy comments, Kurt managed to drive the wedding party out of the apartment. They left in a flurry of hustling black suits and dresses, all apologies amid their elation. Blaine breathed a sigh of relief. Since nine o'clock this morning, he'd been in rooms full of people except the one he wanted to spend a few quiet minutes with today.

Kurt locked the door, just in case an ill-conceived I-forgot-something situation arose. He looked over his shoulder at Blaine, his slow blinks almost shy except for the love and hunger and tears there. Blaine felt the same swelling, overwhelming, perfect emotion. Kurt held his arms out. Blaine melted into him and nuzzled his nose against Kurt's cheekbone. Kurt laughed lowly and leaned into it.

"Hello, husband."

Blaine used his thumb to spin the ring on his left hand. The engagement ring he'd been wearing for over a year had turned the skin smooth, and the white gold, diamond-studded ring swirled easily around his finger. He felt Kurt's arm rise to examine his ring over his husband's shoulder.

"Hello, husband."

At some point soon, they needed to get back up to the rooftop. They had exchanged their vows with the nighttime cityscape in the background, all bright lights with a black backdrop, because that was what New York was to them: bright lights, big dreams. Now the chairs would be moved over to the tables beneath the gauzy canopy for the meal, and then the live band would play mellow, jazzy versions of the approved songs. Budget wedding or not, Kurt Anderson-Hummel demanded elegance and style.

"In case I don't get a chance to say it again, you did an amazing job with the wedding. I can't imagine a better celebration of our love."

Kurt preened. "I do have a talent with weddings. You did good too."

"Did I? You didn't get the Queen Anne's Lace because of me."

"I know, but I'm glad you had opinions about our wedding. It means you care about today. I'd trade the perfect flower arrangement any day to have a husband invested in our marriage from the very beginning."

Blaine stretched to his full height and laid a gentle kiss on his husband's lips. They stood like that for several minutes, their lips only resting together, swaying together to their own silent music.

Fourteen months ago, in this very living room now a wedding warzone with garment bags, cardboard boxes, and flower petal shrapnel, Blaine had sat on their couch watching Kurt pace across the living room while he rated about a bad costume choice for his upcoming play and lamenting that he couldn't make the story perfect for the audience when the words had tumbled out with a sigh and a look so reminiscent of Blaine's sixteen-year-old self they might have been back at the Lima Bean saying 'I love you' for the first time.

"Will you marry me?"

There was the same startled pause, as if to ask, 'How did you know exactly what I wanted to say to you?' and 'Why do you always beat me to these moments?' Then Kurt had dashed into their bedroom, leaving Blaine confused, because surely that pause and that look meant yes? He knew Kurt that well. Didn't he? Kurt had come out of their room with a red box, too thin for a watch and too short for a bracelet, with two matching engagement rings inside.

"Yes," Blaine had said, like he hadn't also asked the question. They still laughed about it, and probably always would. They'd tell their grandchildren the story and everyone at the retirement community where the young nurses would identify them as the sweetest couple they'd ever met.

"We should make our grand entrance," Kurt said at last. "There will be plenty of time for this next week. I'm glad kind of glad your parents are sending us to the worst honeymoon destination ever. It means I won't feel guilty about not leaving the hotel room."

"Hmm. I may have suggested it to them for that very reason."

"My deviousness is rubbing off on you."

Blaine giggled childishly. Kurt rolled his eyes, but smiled through it.

Rachel waited for them by the rooftop door and kept them from entering until the lead singer of the band could do a proper introduction after the song ended. From the sliver of opening between door and jamb, they could see the smiling faces of their friends and family milling around the rooftop expertly decorated by Kurt and a team of friends who were also set designers. Tendrils of delicate flowers dripped off the brick walls softening what might have been a harsh, urban setting. Heaps of satin ribbons wove around flowers, candles, and glass centerpieces. A canopy of sheer material covered nearly half the rooftop where waiters prepared for the meal.

"This is so gorgeous, Kurt."

"You haven't even seen the best part yet."

The song faded away, and the lead singer put aside his guitar to speak into the microphone as the emcee of the evening. "The moment we've all been waiting for … the Misters Anderson-Hummel! Give it up for Kurt and Blaine!"

Kurt would be having words with him about the college frat boy slang later, but for now the wild applause of their friends and family called them forward. They walked in together, arms looped and smiling so widely their cheeks ached. They received love, blown kisses, and pats on the back as they made their way up to the head table where the wedding party stood clapping.

"Look up," Kurt almost forgot to say.

Blaine tore his gaze away from the happy crowd. From the canopy hung paper cranes on delicate strings of differing lengths so that the paper chandeliers rose and fell like an inverted wave. They had been folded from shiny, silver paper that reflected back the candles and city lights. There must have been a thousand of the small birds.

"_Kurt._"

Blaine stopped in the middle of the reception area, and some blessed soul had the presence of mind to tap his or her champagne flute. He pulled his husband into a passionate kiss, heedless of their families standing just feet away and their discussion about keeping the kissing chaste in public. He couldn't help himself. Kurt pulled away breathlessly, pleased and trying not to show it too much.

"Did you fold them all?" Kurt nodded, and Blaine ducked his head. He whispered to his husband, "How am I ever going to live up to this?"

"You already do. Every day."

If Blaine had ever been so in love, he didn't remember it. He kissed the back of Kurt's hand, to the delight of the guests, and led him through the corridors between tables. He wanted to run and recreate the first time they held hands, but the space wasn't quite large enough for that. Cooper and Finn slapped their brothers on the back and ushered them into their seats.

"Before we eat," Cooper began, "Finn and I want to toast the happy couple."

As the grooms situated themselves in the chairs at the center of the table, they exchanged nervous glances. They'd decided not to check their brothers' speeches for appropriateness, although they'd mentioned that to Rachel in the hope that she would badger Cooper and Finn until they submitted their toasts for her approval.

"When Blaine called me and told me he'd proposed, I only had one question: Did you serenade him with a song full of innuendo or a breakup song?"

The guests laughed at the familiar stories often retold. The Warblers in attendance exchanged nostalgic looks across the crowd.

"It turns out the answer was neither. The years with Kurt have toned Blaine down." Cooper winked at Kurt. "As anyone who has seen Kurt's wardrobe can attest, that's the only thing Kurt has ever toned down."

More affectionate laughter followed with a lot of nodding. Cooper took a moment to slip into a more serious mode.

"As I was thinking about what to say up here, I kept coming up empty. As the big brother, I'm supposed to have some words of wisdom. But the truth is, I want my little brothers to give me lessons on romance and relationships, because I don't know a more perfect pair. Blaine, Kurt, if I had your relationship and I had folded a thousand paper cranes, I would wish for time to stand still. But I know you won't wish for that, because what looks perfect to all of us is, to you, only the beginning of something even greater."

Cooper raised his flute, and the guests followed. "To your future love, happiness, and lady fabulous life together."

The grooms rose to hug Cooper. The older Anderson turned away from the tables so they wouldn't see his proud tears when Blaine whispered into his ear. Finn stood up next.

"The last time I gave a speech at a wedding, my parents were getting married. I said then that I would be a good brother to Kurt, and I hope I have been. I know sometimes I let my jealousy get in the way. Like my senior year of high school, and then again a couple years ago. I just didn't understand, you know, how your relationship is so easy when I've had to fight for every happy moment I've had. But I guess that's right. The world has given you guys so much crap. Why shouldn't you have something good and pure together?" He raised his glass. "I love you guys. To Kurt and Blaine."

Kurt threw his arms around his brother and squeezed tightly. Blaine hugged him next, and they laughed at the always comical awkwardness because of their height difference.

The rest of the night passed in a happy blur. The caterers had done an amazing job with the complicated menu, and even the vegan option tasted like real food. There were too many calls for kisses to keep track of and important moments the photographer punctuated with a camera flash. Friends from all over wanted to give their congratulations. The Warblers wanted to perform with Kurt and Blaine. Not to be outdone, New Directions had their turn next. Kurt's classy, elegant evening turned boisterous as wine bottles emptied and night turned into morning. He hardly noticed, though. As their friends cajoled the band into playing livelier numbers, Kurt and Blaine still spun slowly on the dance floor, caught up in each other's arms and eyes and love.

"I don't want tonight to ever end," Kurt confessed.

"I do." Kurt pouted until Blaine kissed his protruding lower lip. "Our wedding is amazing, Kurt. But I want to see what our life is like. I want to watch you become a Broadway legend so I can tell everyone that I always knew you'd do it. I want to meet our kids and have fake competitions with you to see if we can get our son to love football or scarves more. I want to wake up next to you every morning forever and kiss you awake and tell you how loved you are."

"The things you _say_, Blaine."

"The things you _do_, Kurt."

They smiled into each other and revolved around the dance floor oblivious to world beyond their embrace. No one had the heart to interrupt their dance to say good-bye, so they waved at the happy couple that didn't notice their departure and whispered together on their way out how they'd never been to a better wedding.

_Oh, the decorations and the food and the music were wonderful, but the _grooms_. _

_I know! I know! _

_God, I'm going to start happy crying again just thinking about it. _

_Me too!_

Blaine and Kurt didn't realize they were alone on the rooftop with the band playing well past their agreed upon time. The fiery orange sunrise reflected off the silver paper cranes. Brightness kissed their wish.


	7. Complete Wishes

**Author's Note:** Can you believe it's already the final day of Klaine Week? I don't know what I'm going to do with myself tomorrow morning. I wrote 15,000 words of fluff this week. I've enjoyed every day and sharing these themed one-shots with you. If you're one who likes to download fanfiction, you can find a PDF of this story on my fanfiction masterlist on my webiste (link in my profile). Thank you all so much for reading. I also want to say thank you to the organizers of Klaine Week. We wouldn't have been able to celebrate this anniversary in style without them.

Prompt for Day #7: Domestic or Daddy!Klaine

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><p>"<em>He who folds one thousand papers cranes pleases the gods and shall have his heart's greatest desire."<em>

—_Japanese proverb_

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><p><strong>A THOUSAND PAPER CRANES<strong>

**COMPLETE WISHES**

Chaos pretty accurately described every morning in the Anderson-Hummel house. It began at six o'clock when Grayson decided he'd had enough sleep, thank you very much, and charged into his parents' room with a running start, leapt onto the bed, and bounced up the mattress while worming his way between their bodies.

"Wake up, Daddies!" he proclaimed. "There are cartoons to watch!"

His rambunctiousness roused Lady Gaga, who came barreling through the house barking madly because she thought she'd been left out of play time. Her huge, clumsy paws meant for swimming and not running slipped on the hardwood floors and sent her careening into the wall outside Alaina's bedroom. The little girl started awake with a cry of alarm, and then a shriek of displeasure when she heard over the baby monitor that her brother and "puppy" (a fifty pound Newfoundland) got to play on her Daddies' bed while she was stuck in her crib.

"Lady, get off the bed!" Kurt yelled.

The huge dog ambled around, mussing up the comforter and knocking Grayson back against the headboard. The little boy rubbed at the back of his head, his eyes brimming with tears. Blaine left Kurt to wrestle Lady off their bed while he checked their son over for any serious damage.

"I think you just banged it a little. You'll be all right, buddy."

Grayson frowned, considered Blaine's assessment for a moment, and then nodded. If his Daddy said he would be all right, then he would be. He snuggled down into his Daddy's warm chest and, now that he'd woken the house and caused his daily love riot, he sighed sleepily and let his eyes fall closed.

The whole time, Lady barked like she thought the world was ending, and Alaina yelled, "Love me! Love me!" through the baby monitor and down the hall. With the dog back on the floor, and his breath heaving with the effort, Kurt hurried down the hall to get their daughter, whose cry for attention had taken a rapid turn towards hysterical. There were tears forming when Kurt lifted her up and cradled her against his chest.

"Ssh. Don't cry, baby girl. Papa's here now."

He rubbed comforting circles onto her back and pressed kisses into her hair while he walked back down the hall towards the master bedroom. She relaxed with a deep exhale and fell asleep against his chest.

Without Kurt to keep her down, and Blaine's arms full of little boy, Lady Gaga jumped back up onto the bed, circled twice, and flopped down by the footboard.

"6:12. We're getting faster at calming the chaos," Kurt remarked.

Blaine punctuated the claim with a yawn. He looked adorable with his curls poufy and dark circles under his eyes. Alaina was nineteen months now, and Grayson had just turned four, but he looked like they still had an infant to feed a couple times a night and a toddler jealous of all the attention his new baby sister got. Kurt probably looked the same.

"Sleep," Blaine moaned.

They shifted around in the bed, careful not to wake the kids or the dog (especially the dog), until they were settled with their babies between them and covers drawn back up around their shoulders. This would all happen again in an hour when Lady needed to go out.

"Should have just got a bird," Kurt mumbled into the pillow.

"Dog was your idea for Grayson," Blaine murmured back.

"Then we got him a sister, so why'd we keep the dog?"

Blaine swatted his husband on the arm. "Don't compare our baby girl to a pet, even if she is cuter than a lolcat."

Alaina snuffled and rolled over in her sleep, looping her arms around her brother, who shifted around to let her cuddle up closer. Kurt fought off the heavy weight pulling him into sleep and went to find his phone to snap some pictures. The moment was too cute to ignore. When he came back, he saw Blaine working to keep his eyes open.

"See. Lolcats," he mumbled incoherently.

Kurt smiled easily at his slumbering family and snapped pictures that would adorn his Facebook page, Twitter profile, and vanity mirror backstage. He slipped back into bed and enjoyed a twenty minute nap until Lady Gaga woke him up with her whining. He stumbled out of bed, grabbed her rhinestone-studded leash, and took her outside onto the tiny lawn in front of their brownstone.

After the dramatics of the daily chaotic wake-up-by-little-boy-antics, the second waking went much smoother. There were good morning kisses all around and requests about what the little ones wanted for breakfast. Kurt had long ago given up hope of taking care of the fashion and cuisine parts of the morning routine. He'd taught Blaine how to make French toast and cheesy scrambled eggs in ways that wouldn't ruin their expensive cookware and claimed the responsibility of teaching their children how to dress. He sent Blaine into the kitchen with a swat on the butt.

"Don't tease me," Blaine grumbled. Kurt giggled and batted his eyelashes.

"What's so funny, Papa?" Grayson wanted to know.

Getting Alaina dressed was still simple enough. Kurt got to pick out her outfits, and while he could live without the jungle animal theme Blaine thought was adorable, he enjoyed dressing his little girl. He put her in a shirt monogrammed with a monkey, a white skirt, and pink tights. Grayson was harder to dress. Fashion independence was very important, so Kurt waited a few paces back while the boy stood in front of his closet and considered the outfits Kurt had put together on hangers (because Kurt Anderson-Hummel would not have a child who wore mismatched colors and prints).

He'd thankfully grown out of his dinosaur phase when he wouldn't wear anything except his green Tyrannosaurs Rex Halloween costume. (Although his "Rawr! is how dinosaurs say hello" greetings had been adorable). He'd moved on to his Blaine phase. He wanted to dress exactly like his Daddy now, so Kurt wasn't surprised when he picked out dark wash jeans and an Argyll sweater.

"And a bowtie," he announced. "And no socks. And sunnies."

Fifteen minutes and a temper tantrum later, Grayson sat at the breakfast table with socks and blue Wayfarers on. Kurt and Blaine traded off getting ready and putting together bags for the kids before they started their day. Now that the kids were parked in front of _Sesame Street_ and Kurt had a few moments of quiet, the upcoming events of the day hit him. His lower lip wobbled as he watched Grayson laying on his stomach and little socked feet kicking the air. He rushed into the bedroom to find Blaine dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed with tears in his eyes. They met in the middle of the room and buried their faces into each other's shoulders.

"We don't have to do this?"

They both sighed dejectedly. They did, and they knew it. All the private elementary schools they'd checked into recommended preschool as an important developmental time for kids. The one Kurt wanted Grayson to attend – co-ed, no uniforms – required at least two years of preschool.

"Your dad said we have to rip off the Band-Aid," Blaine said. "And Carole said to take Alaina with us so we can cuddle her and drown our sorrow in cuteness."

Kurt took a breath and nodded sharply once. "Okay. Let's drop him off at preschool."

_Abandon him to the shark-infested waters of preschool where begins the cruelty and taunting that eventually led to death threats against me and put you in the hospital_, is what Kurt wanted to say, but that was too pessimistic, so he swallowed his ill thoughts and went to collect the kids. Grayson refused to ride in the stroller, of course, so Kurt's hoisted him onto his hip while Blaine pushed the stroller loaded with Alaina, a diaper bag, and a backpack. Blaine had whimpered when he'd loaded the backpack up.

"I'm going to school because I'm a big boy," Grayson told random strangers on the sidewalk. In New York, no one paid a cute child much attention except other children. At the crosswalk down the street, Grayson and a little girl about five-years-old in a school uniform gabbed at each other until the white walking man flashed.

"At least he won't have trouble making friends," Kurt said glumly.

Blaine's lip trembled again. Kurt rubbed his husband's back, but that only made them both more emotional.

Grayson's preschool teacher, Miss Melissa, was very understanding when they kept him in the hallway for a good fifteen minutes giving him hugs and kisses. None of the other parents seemed at all distressed about handing their children over to a teacher all day. Kurt flashed them all judgmental glares.

"Me and Papa will be back at two o'clock to pick you up, okay?" Blaine said. "If you want to come home early, you tell Miss Melissa and she'll call us. We'll be here right away."

Grayson nodded. A burst of laughter from inside the classroom drew his attention. He stretched his little body around to peer through the door curiously. A group of boys were setting up a train set. His eyes widened and he took a step towards them. Panicked, Kurt crouched down next to Blaine, talking frantically to get his son's attention.

"You don't have to go to preschool at all if you don't want to. We can have bologna sandwiches and cheese puffs for lunch. You can roll around in the dirt, and we won't make you take a bath."

Their son didn't hear any of the bribes. He was too enthralled with the idea of playing with a train set. Kurt pressed a hand over his mouth and blinked rapidly. Grayson slipped out of Blaine's arms and meandered over to the group of boys without so much as a goodbye. Blaine pressed his lips into a thin line and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Can I play with the train too?" they heard Grayson ask.

"Are you a present?" another little boy asked. Grayson must have shaken his head. "Then why do you have a bow around your neck?"

Kurt released a wounded sound. "Blaine, we can't leave him here with children who don't have any respect for fashion accessories."

"I agree," Blaine said quickly. "Clearly, these kids are not mature enough for our son and staying around them could be detrimental to his cognitive development. Let's take him home."

"Misters Anderson-Hummel," the preschool teacher began soothingly, "the first day is always the hardest on the parents. I can assure you that Grayson will be just fine with the other kids here. I think you know that too."

The teacher went back inside with a final, sympathetic look. Kurt and Blaine blinked wet eyes at each other and looked down at Alaina. She sat in the stroller, clutching her stuffed elephant and none the wiser to the emotional turmoil ripping her fathers apart. She cooed at them.

"Love me?" she asked.

"Carole is a genius," Kurt said.

* * *

><p>Kurt and Blaine sat on a bench in the park watching Alaina play in the sandbox and tucked into giant bowls of ice cream they claimed to have had bought for her, not that she could have ever eaten six extra large scoops.<p>

"I keep wondering how Grayson is doing," Blaine confessed.

"Me too. God, I feel like I stuffed him in a box and dumped him on the side of the road."

"Again with comparing our children to pets?"

Kurt rolled his eyes and took a huge bite of cookie dough ice cream to make up for his miserable mood. For a minute, it looked like Alaina might cry when another little girl stole her shovel. Kurt twitched on the bench, but Blaine held him back. Their little girl proved she had more mettle than her constant cuteness and pleas to "love her" led on. She took the shovel back and, for good measure, added in a fierce side-eye she had definitely learned from Kurt.

"Oh my God," Blaine laughed.

No one else in the sandbox messed with their little princess the rest of the day, and the little girl who had stolen her shovel went to great lengths to try and make friends with her. They didn't usually come to this park, but now that Alaina was the HBIC – head _baby_ in charge – and it was close to Grayson's school, they would be back often.

"I am so proud right now," Kurt said.

Kurt's smiled melted away after a few moments, replaced with abject horror.

"Blaine. What are we going to do when Alaina goes to preschool?"

Blaine said nothing for several minutes. "I'm sorry, Kurt, but I can't think about that without having a panic attack. I know it's still two-and-a-half years away, but I just can't."

They sat quietly, wallowing in their depressing thoughts of days at home before they went to work with no baby voices or _Sesame Street_ on the television or messes to clean up. They each started to say something twice, but broke off, until finally Kurt said what they were both thinking.

"You know, we could probably still manage our morning routine with three kids."

"Probably. And our work schedules are actually kind of okay with nighttime feeding. You get home a little after midnight, and I get home at about four."

"And I'm sure Alex could come back to work for us as the night nanny. Grayson and Alaina really miss her."

"And there are so many children in the world who need a family to love them. Why not us? The agency has already approved us twice. We're good dads and have a lot of love to give. It's our duty as good citizens of the world to adopt as many kids as we can."

"And since you only want to have an even number of kids so one never feels left out, we should plan on adopting again in another couple of years."

"Then it would be about a decade before we ran out of babies to cuddle."

Kurt sighed sadly. "But we probably shouldn't make this decision today when we're so emotional."

"No, probably not. But it's out there now, so we should think about it. You remember what they said when we filled out the papers before we adopted Grayson. Prospective parents should visualize how their lives will change with a baby, or another baby, as the case may be."

"Yeah. We should definitely think about it and talk about it again in … a month?"

Blaine grinned. "That's our tenth anniversary, Kurt. You think we're not going to be emotional then?"

"Just trying to ensure a good outcome."

"Oh, I think we both know what the outcome is going to be."

Blaine leaned over and kissed his husband sweetly.

* * *

><p>Kurt, Blaine, and Alaina arrived back at the preschool at a quarter to two to pick up Grayson. They'd eventually left the park so Blaine could take a nap, having gotten only two hours of sleep before the rowdy wakeup call at six am. Coming back to the preschool was cutting it close for Kurt, who would have to go straight to the theatre from picking up Grayson.<p>

"Maybe tomorrow you drop him off and I pick him up," Blaine suggested.

"Why is arranging our schedules to fit our son's schooling so sexy?" Kurt whispered.

Blaine winked lasciviously. Even after so many years together, Kurt blushed to his ears.

The classroom door opened, signaling the end of the day and permission for parents to enter and pick up their children. Kurt and Blaine rushed inside. Grayson's face lit up when he saw his parents, and he hurried over to them with a wad of paper clutched in his small hand. Blaine scooped him up and pressed a kiss to his chubby cheek. Alaina wriggled in Kurt's arms, reaching out for her brother.

"Hey, buddy. We missed you. Did you have a good day?"

The little boy nodded eagerly. "I played with a train and colored a rainbow and watched a movie about the alphabet and … and I made a wish!"

Grayson opened his palm. The wad of paper looked vaguely triangular.

"It's beautiful, buddy," Kurt praised. "We can tie a string on it and hang it from your art board."

Perhaps it was supposed to be a star or a fortuneteller. Either way, their little boy was so proud of his creation, the form of it mattered not all to his dads. Like his art project, their family might not look the way the world expected, but it was the unique shape that made it everything Kurt and Blaine had ever wished for.

**The End**


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